Freyd

Kneeling down at Delilah's side, Freyd had watched the last of her health bar vanish, a telltale sign of impending and inevitable end. "You're okay now," he consoled, more gently and quietly, taking her hand in his even as her skin began to flake away and turn to dust. "It's gone, and can't hurt you anymore." Delilah cried, her body convulsing in the motions but voice already gone, tears streaming down the broken orange mesh of her avatar, revealed along the near side of her face. "I'll find your mom, Delilah. We'll stop the thing that did this to both of you, I prom..."

Red thread monster clashed against Whisper in Shadow, both roiling, dancing, stabbing and thrashed violently, each seeking to gain the upper hand. Delilah kept trying to engulf her target with her weavings, only to have them unravel in the face of a swift parry or dodge. Freyd was just too many places at once, too quick for her to corner. Beyond that, his own strikes now turned her strength against her. Every blow drained a little more colour from her sinewy armor, restoring Freyd's health in the process. All of the cuts and contusions inflicted upon him were slowly fading as his health ba

"I'm sorry, kid," Freyd started, climbing back to his feet after having spilled out of Persi's digestive tract in reverse. He never wanted to do that again. "I can't pull this same trick on you. And that only leaves on option. This thing," he added, pointing at the lattice of interwoven filaments overhead. "It needs to die. And I am very much afraid that doing so might kill everything... and everyone... who is still connected to it." Pangs of something unfamiliar gripped Freyd's chest as he spoke. Though he never realized it himself, the Whisper had a serious soft spot for children,

A chorus of screeching voices cried out as Persi's bindings were ripped from her through the force of Freyd's attacks. Clenching his teeth to fight back doubt, he lunged for the ground behind Delilah, entering her shadows in a desperate gambit he prayed might somehow spare his longtime friend. She was the one who'd shown him how to navigate the void between shades, his eyes finally opened and understanding after touching that very substance in the battle against Shadow the Malevolent though its possession of Orgoth, the minotaur champion. His target was they very shadow he was trying to sav

A whip-like lash struck at him from the right, Persi streaking across the field and trailing unraveling threads like she was weaving a dreamcatcher as she went. Several strands snared and cut at Freyd's form, sizzling with acrid smoke wherever they touched. Their affliction was less pain and more numbness, as if the red threads sought to drain its victims very identity to absorb it into its own. Every such moment matched a pulse in the gossamer filaments overhead. This thing was learning, growing, becoming more dangerous with every entity it touched or absorbed - woven into itself, quite l

"And now it's going to be your turn, mister. You've made a mess of my room, and I'm going to make you clean it up." Delilah stood, filaments still linking her fingertips to Persi's gradually corrupting form, her voice reverberating across the webs wrapped all around the clearing and linking to what he'd first thought was the base of a massive tree. "The Labyrinth." It all came together now. This wasn't even its heart, merely the gatehouse to the true threat that lay within, meaning that Delilah was just as likely a victim. "What happened to your father? Where is he?" "Father?

Bursting into a web-laced clearing from where he'd last heard sounds of combat, Freyd finally found his enemy, and also his worst nightmare. Sickly slurping sounds echoed around the open space as a small hunched figure wrapped in coiled sinew-like fabric, bearing an overwhelming similarity to muscle flayed free of any covering skin. It was feasting, or sounded like it, causing Freyd's heart to drop into his stomach at the thought of its potential victim. "You get away from her," he growled, the timbre of his voice darkening to a low and hateful growl. The slurping stopped as whatever t

Sparing only an instant, Freyd snatched and spread a pair of healing salves over his wounds as he ran. 'These thing were ancient, having sat in his inventory for some unfathomable duration. I really hope they don't expire,' he thought, inwardly cringing at the concept of 'lich loogeys gone worse.' While he carried a ridiculous assortment of these things, Freyd forever clung to what-if scenarios playing out in the back of his mind, hinting that they should always be preserved in case they were needed for more dire circumstances. Nope. Not this time. This whole mess officially counts

Landing with an awkward tumble managed to dull some of the impact, but still left him surrounded by a host of angry spectral dread wolves. Startled and leaping back from the crash, he knew their moment's hesitation would be all he had to make his break and try to reach Persi's position. Hopefully, she had managed to lead their foe somewhere more manageable for a final showdown. He just needed to give these beasts the slip. "Sorry pups. No time to play today." Raking his hands across the leaf-covered ground, Freyd took full advantage of the Fall's offering and filled the air with clou

These aren't what attacked me. But who or what are they hunting? The grim beasts meandered along the floor, sniffing as they went, but it wasn't clear that they were actually looking for him. Could whatever was playing cat to his mouse equally provoke the native mobs? Could whatever twist and turn these filaments contrived conspire even against Aincrad's unnatural order? Wouldn't that be interesting...? As one, every wolf's head turned in a common direction. The pack moved as single unit, of one mind and guided by instincts combined with programming. Sensing opportunity, Fre

Snarling at his own indecision, Freyd turned back to his original course. If something had happened, there was little he could do about it while fighting on enemy ground and on the enemy's terms. Flitting across the twilight terrain in the manner his shadow mongoose had taught him, Freyd blended in with the undergrowth. No footstep, no broken branches or snapped twigs. No sign that he even existed was left behind. Finding a safer perch and observation among the higher boughs of the trees, he had previously avoided climbing out of concerns about the increases presence and density of the go

"Persi," he called out, his trusty familiar never having wandered too far afield, "See if you can buy me some time." Her scurrying form was instantly lost among the other roiling shadows, their enemy likely using the same for cover. And be careful, he added, only to himself. They had faced countless dangers together, but something about this mysterious threat seemed to break or even exist outside the regular rules and conventions of Aincrad's digital existence. Anything could happen. Dashing deeper through the tree line, Freyd was searching for advantage - any advantage - he could use

It was small, fast and light on its feet, crawling about in the treetops and clever at hiding itself. The strands provided a passing degree of ambient light. Freyd's darkvision managed the rest, giving him a clearer view than his pursuer might realize. Moving as quietly as he could to put a few of the more substantial tree trunks between himself and their suspected locations, he sought to lose them by manipulating shadows to create duplicates of himself. Nothing happened. A second confirmation that something was off, but he'd taken the chance and risked tipping his hand. Snarling from

Racing recklessly through the underbrush, Freyd couldn't even tell what he was meant to be running from. No enemy had shown itself. Other than the ruddy gossamer netting strewn overhead and all around, and a few stray wolf calls, he hadn't actually seen a single soul. The house that tried to eat him was an obvious exclusion, that being more a facet of weird vector-based environmental hazards, at least in his tech-addled mind. Slowing his pace, and his breathing, it felt weird to feel his pulse crashing against his temples like a hurricane. What the hell? This isn't like me.

"Not a place to linger," Freyd instantly decided. Dashing into the woods instead, his general lack of familiarity with the floor left him with no destination in mind. Glyndebourne was still too hot, and he'd not yet heard from Foyle or the others. Haunting woods filled with creepy fibrous badness in the dead of night really also didn't seem like the best place or time to check his messages. I need to find shelter, then hopefully contact the others. They may have found out more while I've wandered aimlessly into the wilderness. At least the notes he'd found in the Lord Magistrate's p

The day's final rays peered through the gossamer, ushered along by another rising cloud of dust and the thunder of a storm growing decidedly less distant. Only once the last of the light had gone did he realize that the remaining filaments carried a soft reddish glow that seemed to pulse along them. It would have been invisible in daylight, but now he realized how far these things extended. "Fuck. They're everywhere." The wolves agreed, howling with promise and delight in the distance. Freyd just wanted to facepalm. This really wasn't turning out to be a great day. "Y'know,

There was no warning. No ominous creaking, splintering of heavy timber or dramatic, slow-motion leaning. It just... fell over, with him inside. Springing to action was essentially pointless. There was nothing firmly fastened in the room and the decorative wall panels were too shallow in profile to offer any hope for a handhold. Freyd found himself sliding once more into darkness as the surrounding room crashed into the basement, along with most of the remaining outer manor walls. Horrid keening screeched split his ears as Freyd stepped through shadows to reappear in the darkness of t

Most of the contents were reports of various kinds from around the rest of Floor 28, referencing seditious activities, belligerent defiance of his Majesty's soldiers, and a seemingly coordinate effort to deny the royal tax collector his due. Additional guards had been assigned, but local resentment was brewing, and had apparently been for some time. Most of it was mundane and fit within the floor's historical theme. A few of the latter reports were notably stranger. A shipment of new goods from afar had recently arrived in Glyndebourne, causing quite the stir among locals and loyalists ali

Feeling around the edges of the painting's ornate frame, Freyd studied the features of its subject for clues about her parent's features. "Nothing prevents this Lord Magistrate from being a woman," he reminded himself, thinking that the sort of twist that Cardinal might introduce, just to play against prejudice. Find the clips holding the painting in place, he released them, then unhooked and removed the painting. No one was around to notice the unusual care or gentle manner of his handling, which seemed uncharacteristic. Few knew of Freyd's soft spot for children, though Cardinal did

...kept safe... behind Delilah's heart... regret my... Magis... Aldenbrook. The note looked to have been torn into pieces before it was set alight. Whoever tossed it in the bin wasn't thinking. Air-tight, the canister would have suffocated the flames and prevented the arson its completion. "Alright," Freyd whispered, wondering what it could possibly mean. The cursive script itself was firm, bold and eloquent, signaling a refined education and practiced hand. "Sounds like traits you'd associate with someone expecting to be sitting in this chair." Pushing the chair aside,

Having pulled back the chair, Fred noticed a tarnished silver ash bin tucked in deep beneath the desk, where the room's master could conceal evidence of a potential vice, if they felt it necessary. Pulling it out, the canister seemed neglected compared to the rest of the room's immaculate level of care. "How did none of the dust and debris from the rest of the manor's collapse get in here?" The house groaned and protested at his words, as if speaking them aloud had reminded it that it was mortally wounded and should already have fallen apart. Pinching the bridge of his nose and sha

Several things stood out, immediately, to the keen-eyed Whisper's survey. The room was completely devoid of strands and filaments. Despite their overwhelming concentration outside of its very walls, this place was bare. Their absence was jarring, compared to the exterior. There should also have been carpets and tapestries in here, quite obviously by the patterned discolorations on certain parts of the floor and walls. Things had been spread and hung within that were obviously absent. Everything remaining in the room was made of something other than fabric, except the cushioned seat and ba

"A good choice," Freyd replied, flicking his wrist to set fresh bait on his latest aquatic murder spree. At least, that was how Quip tended to describe them when he unloaded all of the collected materials at the shop. "I'm an appraiser, myself. Being able to craft your own weapons and armor definitely has its perks. And, while most players pick up a trade at some point, not all that many keep up with them. You'll see plenty of shops scattered across this floating castle. Few seem to have active keepers." The line tensed as something poked at his bobber, causing the slightest creak a

Scanning the contents of the room revealed no obvious or imminent threat. "That would be too easy, right?" Obvious enemies were easy to deal with. The sneaky, insidious types were far more bothersome. He knew it all too well. Freyd counted himself among the latter, as did a good many others who'd crossed him, Firm Anima or their allies. Few people even realized that the renown crafting guild had a clandestine division, which was the whole point. They wouldn't be worth their name if everyone knew about them. Straying thoughts also reminded him of the tiny black book that had been bu

Careful not to disturb the web-like threads, Freyd fully expected some sort of phase spider to leap through the remaining walls and try to bite his face off. With most of the dust settled again, only the whistling of the wind against the interior offered any sound. This place felt like a tomb, or like it might be ready to become one. Stepping through shadows to bridge the final gap, the Whisper had reached the small section of floor that remained outside the door leading to the only surviving part of the upper floor. The door itself was free of filaments, but every inch of the surrounding